


Hogwarts Meets Harry

by cybergirl614, MAPMonstersArePerceptions



Series: I Know You're a Were 'verse [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry learns about lycans, Hogwarts First Year, Ravenclaw Harry, Rebel Harry, Sentient Hogwarts, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:10:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAPMonstersArePerceptions/pseuds/MAPMonstersArePerceptions
Summary: WIP Harry goes to Hogwarts, makes friends, destroys the norm...same old, same old....





	1. Title Page

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This delightful little picture was created by the lovely Fiona, a budding artist who enjoys this series.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three Cheers for Fiona!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161769596@N06/42147557331/in/dateposted-public/)


	2. Prologue

Over the years, generations of students and teachers have stated that Hogwarts almost seemed alive. Incidents occurred that forced certain special individuals to insist on Hogwarts' ability to react cognitively according to what happened in her corridors – steps moving at just the right time to stop a bully, shortcuts showing themselves exactly when needed to get to class on time... for some, such incidents happened a little too frequently for Hogwarts to not be sentient. Even the staunchest of believers, however, had no inkling of the mind behind the beloved school.

 

The Sorting Hat was often considered to be the mouth of Hogwarts. It sorted the children into their Houses and, in addition to being able to talk, had the greatest awareness of those inside its walls. What no one realized, however, was that many children were sorted long before the Hat sat on their heads. The Sorting Hat was connected to the school and knew all that occurred at Hogwarts from the time of the founders. However, Hogwarts' boundaries did not end at the gate or even the edge of the Forbidden Forest. No, Hogwarts' boundaries went as far as a train platform in London. There was a reason that the train to Hogwarts was called the Hogwarts Express after all. Each year as children old and new entered 9¾, Hogwarts practically shivered in delight and watched in anticipation to see what her charges would bring to the energy of the school. It was through the Express that the Sorting Hat could get a good enough picture of the first-years so that they could be sorted in minutes instead of days.

 

September had arrived again, and as the time ticked closer to 11, Hogwarts noted the new romances that had begun over the summer, smirked at the various contraband being brought to the castle (Firewhiskey and prank items being the most common), and then paused. Certain things were a constant concerning the students of the school. The school had not had anyone younger than 11 on the premises in three-hundred years when a teacher was hired and given board along with her young daughter. Likewise, the school did not host students older than 18. This particular year, there would not even be someone older than 17 on the Express. At least, there shouldn't be. An unfamiliar essence had come aboard the Express. Elements of a prankster from decades earlier and a studious Charms prodigy could be felt in this particular individual, but he seemed to have a control of his magic far greater any student should have. He even seemed to sense Hogwarts on the train, quietly asking for welcome in his new home before entering. Hogwarts knew that this wizard, though wizard almost seemed to be the wrong word, would bare watching. She could not wait for the sorting when she could see what made him so different.


	3. Amou Meets Harry

It was Amou's seventh year. The Slytherin could hardly believe that he had made it this far. In ten more months, he would graduate from Hogwarts with his secret safe. Amou had spent the last six years using every bit of cunning he had to stand out as little as possible and had succeeded...well as best as could be expected anyway. He had hit his first growth spurt before his second year ended and never stopped. It wasn't easy to hide when one was literally head and shoulders above his classmates. Add in that he had a scar underneath his eye that had too often been associated with a tear or raindrop, and he was just happy that his year-mates were too busy making alliances to get ahead in the world to interact with a nobody like him. If he had made more of an effort to build friendships, he was sure that his peculiarities would make his secret obvious.

 

At the moment, Amou was simply glad that he had managed to snag an empty compartment. With any luck, no one would want to join him and he could sleep all the way to Hogwarts. His pounding head and aching muscles certainly liked that idea! He could hear an increase in the number of families on the platform. It couldn't be long now until the train left. Just as the warning blast of the train both added to his headache and to his hope that no one would enter his compartment, the door opened.

“Hi, I'm Harry! Mind if I join you?” While a first year was certainly better than one of his age-mates in terms of keeping his secret, it also meant that he would likely be bombarded with questions about Hogwarts. Too polite to turn the boy away, Amou helped Harry with his trunk and prepared for hours of agonizing conversation.

 

Fifteen minutes in, Amou's patience had begun to wear thin. Harry had already asked him about the various classes and teachers (if this boy didn't make it into Ravenclaw, he was a pink cat) and veered into personal conversation. When Harry talked about himself, it was fairly simple. He just had to nod (as much as it hurt his head to nod, it was easier than talking and talking). When Harry asked about him, personally, things got more complicated. He had difficulty remembering the carefully constructed lies about his home-life that allowed him to come to Hogwarts. As a result, he kept his answers as short as possible and simply tried to stay focused. 

Suddenly, Harry smacked himself with a pillow, not once, not twice, but three times! Amou found that the bizarreness of the scene helped him to ignore his aches. Just as he was about to demand that Harry explain why he did that (never mind where he got the pillow in the first place), Harry started stuttering out apologies for reasons unknown. On the third rehashing of how sorry he was, Amou's blood ran cold. “-didn't think...know you're probably sore 'cause of last night's full moon... I'm really, really sorry...anything I can do...I'll just shut up now”. As Harry's litany eased, Amou's began. “How did you...but I...but you're a first year...but I just...please, please don't tell anyone! I'll do whatever you want! I'll do all of your homework this year, tutor you to make sure you get all O's! Just please, please don't tell anyone about...” Needless to say, Amou was more than slightly surprised at Harry's rather confused response. “Ummm...I don't really know how I knew you were a werewolf; I just did. It's sorta why I wanted to sit with you, to be honest. Of course I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to. Wait does that mean that other students don't know? How? Do me a favor though and please don't do my homework. If my mum found out I got an O that I didn't earn, I'm pretty sure she'd kill me! Listen, how 'bout I just shut my mouth; you rest, and we let this whole thing go.” 

Amou honestly missed the headache-inducing conversation of a few minutes ago. At least then the statements made sense. This first-year knew that he was a werewolf and considered that a GOOD reason to sit with him? Amou was also surprised that the boy didn't push this to his advantage. Even if he, himself, didn't care that Amou was a werewolf, that kind of leverage meant Harry could ask anything of Amou. He had to continue poking. “Are you sure that there isn't anything I can do for you Harry? You're really helping me by keeping the secret, and I feel like I should repay you somehow....” “Please don't think of it as repayment, but ummm...” “Yes?” he prodded. Here it comes. “...do you know where I could get any books on werewolves? Not the stupid, idiotic ones that the ministry likes but ones maybe written by werewolves, about any cultural differences, how to be polite and the like? I really like other cultures and yours seems to be really hard to find decent information on. Please?” Amou was fairly certain that Harry couldn't surprise him more. That being said it would be fairly simple to help Harry broaden his horizons as it were since one of his pack owned a bookstore that sold just such books. He agreed to help Harry and thought that would be the end of it. Oh how wrong he was!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiona's depiction of Amou
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161769596@N06/42147555211/in/dateposted-public/)


	4. Sorting and Week 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took so long to update! Life got into the way....Just a hint though, comments are definitely encouragement for updates ;)

The Sorting Hat was especially excited this year. In mere minutes, the _Essence_ would sit under his rim. What characteristics would dominate the individual that caught the interest of the ancient school? Finally, the name was called. “Potter, Harry!” ‘With hair like that, he better be a Potter!’’ was the first thought to pop in the Hat’s mind as he felt the utterly untameable mop that had defined Potters for generations. Then he looked deeper. This child knew nothing of wandlore but of magic he rivaled the teachers. It also became obvious why the title “wizard” seemed off earlier. This child fit into none of the stereotypes of wizardry. He was human, but he was elf. He was elf but considered a goblin warrior. Based on the interactions on the train, the Hat would not be surprised if the boy joined lycan society as well. 

With a mental shake, the Sorting Hat went back to his job of sorting. Harry Potter was obviously loyal to the extreme. Such loyalty was obviously what motivated others to accept him as they did. He certainly seemed to have bravery, breaking norms left and right, and Godric would certainly have loved the boy’s experience with swords. There was just a hint of cunning, cunning that would no doubt be encouraged in Slytherin...no, wait! The boy’s cunning and ambition seemed to be greater than the Hat had ever seen in one so young. The Sorting Hat nearly squealed in glee as he saw the plans in this child’s head. He only mourned that such plans would be completely unsuitable within the Slytherin House. Really, it seemed the fascinating brain underneath his brim held strong characteristics of each House....where to put him…

”Excuse me” Harry ‘thought’ at the Sorting Hat. He had heard some of the musings of the Hat in his mind and thought it would be best to put his two-cents in. “Ummm… Hello, Mr. Hat. Uh, thank you for taking the time to try to find the best House to sort me in. Correct me if I’m wrong, but Slytherin and Gryffindor have a bit of a rivalry between each other right?” The Sorting Hat did a mental nod, conceding that especially recently the two Houses fought quite viciously. “I wanna work with others no matter the House. Surely being in either of them would cause me trouble? Hufflepuff seems like it would cause problems for the same reason. Having loyalty outside the House would probably not be considered very good.” “Well, well! Very good reasoning Mr. Potter! Such reasoning alone proves that you are worthy of the house of Ravenclaw. It will certainly serve you well with your plans, Slytherin though they may be. Very, well. I wish you the best of luck. Though you would fit in any House, your formal Home shall be RAVENCLAW!”

“What belongs to you, but others use it more than you?” questioned the eagle knocker that protected the Ravenclaw common room. Before the Ravenclaw prefect, a 5th year named Robert Hilliard, could give the first years a chance to try for the answer and subsequently show them how difficult it was to enter their common room, one of the little eaglets blurted out “Your name!” causing the entrance to open. While a part of him was glad that the lad proved to have brains worthy of Ravenclaw, another part fought not to scowl. This was his first chance to prove himself a leader to the ‘ickle firsties, and it got stomped on by the lad’s enthusiasm. 

After giving the 'ickle eaglets a chance to look around the beautiful blue-and-bronze common room, Robert cleared his throat to regain their attention. “Hem-hem! All right you lot, you’ve been sorted into the finest and most intelligent part of the school. As you can see, Ravenclaw has a small library along the walls of the common room. See to it that these books are treated with the respect they deserve! While some aspects of your homework will require you to use the Hogwarts Library, these books will help you with any, shall we say, special projects. Our Head of House, Professor Flitwick will meet with each of you individually over the course of the next two weeks. Tomorrow, you will be given your class schedule as well as what time you are to meet with him. Professor Flitwick is a mighty fine professor and always willing to help you or guide you in your studies. That being said, he is NOT a pushover. Do not let the professor’s size fool you. He was a dueling champion before he came to Hogwarts and will not hesitate to administer punishment to any student! In addition, if you need any help with your classes, some of the older students will likely be able to help as well.” There! That speech ought to explain to the ‘ickle firsties just how Ravenclaw worked. Robert flicked his eye to his professor, Filius Flitwick, who had watched the proceedings from the shadows. Professor Flitwick gave a nod of encouragement to his newest prefect who then explained the sleeping arrangements. Neither Professor Flitwick nor Robert Hilliard noticed that one of the ‘eaglets’ had seen the interaction….

“Ah, Harry Potter. Mr. Potter, where would you find a bezoar, and what is the purpose of it?” “While bezoars are often kept in wizarding pantries because of their healing properties against most poisons, it is originally found in the stomach of a goat. That being said, I personally consider tepores to be of greater use against poisons because while bezoars are only helpful for wizards, tepores can be used for those with mixed blood or a different biology altogether such as veelae or goblins, Professor Snape.” By the time, Harry's first potions class had ended, Ravenclaw had lost twenty points, Professor Snape was unsure as to whether Harry Potter took after his mother or his father, and the other first-year Ravenclaws were desperate to learn more from this mysterious fount of knowledge, Harry Potter.

The Ravenclaw first years had been warned of Binns, the ghost that taught History. They were told to create a study group and learn about the various topics covered in the history textbook at night, in the common room. After having spoken to at least a few ghosts around the castle, Harry personally doubted that it could be as boring and useless as the elder students described it. Having taken several classes with the same students (primarily Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first years), Harry knew when to say present even though his teacher called him by the wrong name. Now that Harry thought of it, Charlus was his great-grandfather’s name! It soon became clear that Professor Binns paid little attention to his class. Within fifteen minutes, all but the most serious of Ravenclaws were asleep, and even they looked like their resolve would break. Harry decided to conduct an experiment to see if the teacher noted anything happening in his class. First, he raised his hand. No response. Then he squawked like an angry bird. Some heads lifted at the sound, but the ghost just kept droning on. By the time class was over, Harry had discovered that the history class was both a waste of time and “taught” primarily lies about the subjects covered. Instead of just joining a study-group, however, he decided that he would try to open a history club to really discuss the topics brought up in the text and differing ways to view them. When he tentatively brought this up with his fellow first-year Ravenclaws, Harry was surprised at their positive reaction. Apparently, the idea of spending seven years just learning through a textbook and a droning ghost did not appeal to any of them. Harry made a note to discuss it with Professor Flitwick. 

While Harry excelled in Potions and knew his history, courses involving the use of wands were a different matter. Oh he looked like he was doing well. He was one of the first students to turn his match into a needle, and he had the most control over his feather when they were taught how to levitate objects. The problem was that it just looked like he was doing it right. In reality, Harry knew that he wasn’t using his wand at all. Whenever he tried, chaos would result. Harry knew that he would have to ask his Head of House. Professor Flitwick appeared to have some goblin blood in him. Harry hoped that he could at least somewhat understand the cause of Harry’s troubles. Harry had tried explaining the issue after class to Professor McGonagall, but she seemed to think that he just didn’t realize he was using his wand. To her, the idea of his being able to do wandless magic at such a young age was preposterous. If Professor Flitwick didn’t believe him and know how to help, Harry honestly thought that he’d never get the hang of it! 

In the midst of all the drama caused by the first week of school, there was also Amou. Four days after classes started, Harry got a package sent by a mysterious owl. Once he saw just what the package contained (several wondrous books about lycanthropy if the titles were any indication), Harry found himself buzzing with anticipation. He could not wait for classes to end so that he could get to reading. Harry sought out Amou with his eyes to convey his thanks. He’d have to come up with a way to repay the lycan. Contrary to Amou’s view of the situation, five, no six, books on a topic he had wanted to study for years was definitely worth more than silence on a secret that wasn’t his to share anyway. Harry would not let Uncle Moony’s unwillingness to talk about the subject cause him to unwittingly insult someone who could become a friend.

Harry started reading in Binns’ class. This served two purposes. First he could start on the wonderful texts. Second, he wouldn’t get so angry listening to the lies being taught. By the end of class, he was halfway through _Were Lycanthropy meets Time_. The small book taught about how views on lycanthropy had changed over time and various treatments that had been or were currently used to treat the condition. One interesting thing that Harry learned was that, while all lycanthropes were werewolves, a person could technically be a werewolf without being a lycanthrope. _Were_ was actually a prefix in ancient Taicun that meant monthly. Anyone who turned into a wolf on regular, monthly basis was a werewolf. Harry had to chuckle. Uncle Moony was so nervous about changing Dad and Uncle Padfoot into a werewolf when they were already a werestag and a weredog! Sure once in awhile they missed a moon, but Harry doubted if they had ever missed more than two a year since they first learned how to become animagi.

Needless to say, Harry had finished all six books before a week had passed. He stayed up fairly late to do so, but since most of what was taught in Potions were things he could do blindfolded and anything taught in his other classes were things he could make happen without a thought, he figured it wouldn’t hurt him too much. He wrote a letter to Amou (he noticed that Amou seemed to try to avoid his eye during meals) asking if they could meet over the weekend to discuss the material in the books. When Amou replied and asked if he knew where the painting of the War between the Rabbits and Frogs were, Harry simply wrote yes in response. He knew that Hogwarts would help him find it. In truth, Hogwarts was the only reason that Harry hadn’t been late for any of his classes. It seemed to Harry that there should be some sort of mentorship in the first weeks of school. How the teachers expected students to find anything when they first arrived, Harry really did not now.

All Harry did know was that tomorrow he would meet up with Amou, and on Tuesday he would meet up with Professor Flitwick. Maybe Amou could help him with his proposal for the history club?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been noted that it is somewhat confusing as to why the Sorting Hat calls Harry "the Essence". When Harry first gets onto the Express, Hogwarts notes that Harry doesn't seem to fit into any of the norms she expects. Harry is first called the Essence there.
> 
> Also, I am well aware that Harry theoretically could fit into either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw based on my description. He is 11. Considering that he is 11, his reasoning is very good, and since Harry would, personality-wise, fit into any of the houses equally, the Sorting Hat sees this as a reason to send him to Ravenclaw.
> 
> On another note, Were Lycanthropy Meets Time is not a typo. The title is a play on the difference between lycanthropy and the prefix "were".


	5. Contemplations and Concerns

A week...a week! No, it was less than a week since Potter had gotten the package of books. The reason Amou had sent six books (many with a good degree of duplicate information) was so that it would take the firstie some time to get through them all. Granted, most of them were barely a hundred pages, but Amou knew for a fact that one of the books was a good three-hundred pages! Stupid Ravenclaws, all they want to do is read! Amou wondered what exactly Harry would want to discuss. At least the firstie was intelligent enough to send an owl instead of greeting him in the halls. His goal was to avoid attention, not encourage it by having a first-year from another House talking to him! Amou sighed as he started the trek to the secret room behind the War between the Rabbits and Frogs painting. He’d barely make it there in time, but if Amou had to guess, he was fairly certain that Potter would be late trying to find it. No matter what he had responded on the note.

Hogwarts (figuratively) shuddered with glee. The new Ravenclaw (Harry Potter the Sorting Hat had discovered) was a delight to have in her walls. His magic mingled with hers as he asked her for help, and he showed a willingness to help others. In the week since his sorting, she had seen numerous actions on his part done solely for the benefit of others. If another student fell in his sight, he always stopped to help. Bullying was not common this early in the year, but he had already broken up one argument in the Ravenclaw common room that Hogwarts knew would have led to the isolation of at least one student. 

When Harry Potter wanted to find a specific portrait to meet up with the lycan student, Hogwarts quivered. She looked forward to seeing this interaction. The lycan had spent far too long alone. He felt that he had a secret, and betrayal was the inevitable result of it getting out. She knew that that wouldn’t, couldn’t be the result from this small first-year finding out. He was too like his sire but more mature too. He wasn’t content ignoring the lycanthropy or just viewing lycanthropy as a “furry little problem”. This first-year wanted to learn about the culture behind lycanthropy. He wanted to learn, and he had big plans. The new Ravenclaw could change the world and would if he had anything to say about it! No the Slytherin lycan had nothing to fear and everything to gain by this alliance. In Hogwarts’ excitement, she showed Harry Potter a secret passageway to the meeting place, and he got there a full thirty minutes early. 

Getting ready for his meeting, Harry couldn’t help but think about his first week at his new home. He loved living in Hogwarts! The magic was so strong that he could feel her buzzing with energy. For some reason, she seemed excited - yes, that was the word - on the day Harry was to meet with Amou. Harry knew that he had read all of the books. Now he wanted to ask Amou to help him practice. There were so many idiosyncrasies in lycan culture, so many ways to give insult. The result was lycanthropes who had to turn off their cultural norms when interacting with non-lycans. Harry did not think that that was right. Yes some give and take in cultural interactions was appropriate, but the ignorance that people had when interacting with lycans made it so that one side gave and the other didn’t. Harry hated that that seemed to be the norm for the culture he was born into. He knew that without the mark given to him by Gellion as a child, house-elves would just see him as a maschre to be served. He knew that every time he walked onto Goblin territory, his body language drew more attention than his size ever could. He was a warrior trained by goblin warriors. He recognized a goblin’s rank and treated them appropriately. The fact that his body language (and politeness by goblin standards) stood out, hurt Harry deeply.

Harry finished tying his shoes with a sigh. He longed for a world where us vs them was not so strong. He wanted future Potters to learn of how to act in different scenarios without being the exception to the rule. Of course, the first step to accomplishing that goal was to learn about more cultures. That was where Amou came in. If Amou was willing, Harry wanted to practice the things talked about in some of the books. He wanted to know that he would not be an embarrassment to his Uncle Remus. After he practiced with Amou about that, Harry hoped that Amou would take the time to read his proposal to Professor Flitwick. 

Five hours later, Amou just barely returned to the Slytherin common room before curfew. He did not know whether he should be happy or horrified at the results of the meeting and a part of him wanted to bang his head against the wall in the hopes of waking up from this bizarre dream. Part of him had assumed that the purpose of the meeting was so that Harry could argue against some aspects of the books that put the ministry in a less-than-stellar light. Instead, what does he want? Harry wants to “practice basic manners in case I find myself interacting with a lycan”. Whaaat? Granted, there wasn’t really anything against it. Amou doubted that the issue came up very often. 

Wizards (the kind without lycanthropy) tended to be very self-centered. He even heard that Remus Lupin’s “pseudo-pack” called him Moony of all things! Amou wondered how Lupin dealt with that so frequently. While lycan names tended to relate to their wolf forms, calling a lycan by something related to the moon was considered an insult. The moon controlled them. It was both their master and their chain. The wolf represented strength. The moon represented the lives denied them by its cycle. 

When Harry showed Amou his proposal to start a history club, Amou found himself stifling a whimper. It was a great idea after all. A place to discuss both ancient and recent history would likely help students with their OWLs and NEWTs. What scared Amou was the extra that Harry seemed to want to put in. As Harry was excitedly describing it, he had pointed out various points where the official version seemed to be prejudiced. Harry wanted to point out that Hedwig Hornsworth was not the crazed pureblood that the book painted her as (apparently because she was a woman doing a man’s job) but was actually ahead of her time and crucial in creating some of the first dragon reserves in the 1300s. He also seemed to have an interest in discussing the goblin view of the various rebellions side-by-side the wizarding one. Amou figured that Harry would either find himself hexed silly with his bizarre views or be a social pariah if he kept pushing. The scary thing, the part that kind of made the large seventh-year want to hide under his bed, was the little voice suggesting that neither of those things would happen. If Harry’s club actually gained popularity and his views alongside it, who knew what would happen….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been reading this series. Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks and the comment from last chapter. Please keep them up. Without kudos/bookmarks/comments, I have no way of knowing if this story is even remotely interesting to others. Comments can give me ideas on what specific parts interest you, the reader. Keep the encouragement up, and I'll try to keep updating frequently!


	6. Flitwick Meets Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Flitwick was expecting Harry Potter. He looked forward to meeting Lily's son. Harry has hidden parts that are quite intriguing. What will he discover about his young pupil?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before reading, I highly suggest reading my new fic of the series "Harry Goes to Gringotts!".

6:30 had come and passed. Everything had been accomplished for the day with the exception of one more meeting with his first-year eaglets. Soon he would meet with Harry Potter. The boy seemed to have just as much talent with charms as his mother, and the professor was looking forward to it greatly. Afterwards Professor Flitwick was planning to curl up on his sofa while listening to some traditional music from his mother’s world and drinking some Enyukiot tea. 

Enyukiot wasn’t for everyone. Originating from the goblins, its taste was somewhat reminiscent to what one would find if garlic, cayenne pepper, and a dab of mustard were all blended together into a drink. Very spicy, Filius Flitwick had yet to find anyone without goblin blood who could take the heat and enjoy his favorite tea. He always kept black tea in his office to serve his students and fellow staff members. 

Realizing that he had half an hour before Mr. Potter’s arrival, Filius decided to make a cuppa or two and continue reading the latest issue of Duelers Are Us. Sitting down, he poured himself the Enyukiot and took out another cup for when Mr. Potter arrived. 

It seemed like only moments had passed Flitwick’s sharp ears heard a knock at the office door. Greeting the young Mr. Potter, Professor Flitwick couldn’t help but compare him to his parents. In looks he seemed to be all James Potter. If the rumors around the Ravenclaw common room were true, however, he seemed to be all Lily. He certainly had her talent in Charms! He also seemed to be very popular with the other first years of the House. 

On receiving a positive response when asked if he would like some tea, Professor Flitwick went to the small kitchen in his rooms. Before he could return with some “proper” British tea, however, Harry made an exclamation of delight! 

“Ymmm, that hits the spot. I hadn’t realized how much I would miss Enyukiot until it wasn’t available anymore, Professor! Thanks for giving me some.” While Professor Flitwick was busy making tea, Harry had noted the empty tea cup and the teapot half-full of Enyukiot and poured himself a cuppa. Professor Flitwick was quite flustered. He had never imagined that a student of his would be familiar with Enyukiot never mind actually enjoy it! 

Turning back to the boy, Flitwick had to enquire further (he was the head of Ravenclaw after all). “Yes, I quite enjoy a bit of Enyukiot after a day’s work, Mr. Potter. If I may ask, when were you introduced to the drink? It isn’t very common among wizards after all.” 

Seemingly still busy enjoying the drink, it took a moment for Harry to respond. “I was probably seven maybe eight when I first tried Enyukiot. Grimhook’s mom made some for us. I think she forgot I was human, but once I finished the first cup I fell in love! Now it’s one of my favorite drinks, and at home I make it at least three times a week.”

Though he was rather intrigued by Harry’s apparent connections with the goblins, Professor Flitwick decided to move on. He would have time to find out more about his student’s history later.

“Ah, I quite enjoy a good cup of Enyukiot as well. Besides missing your favorite drink, have you had any other difficulties settling in? From what I’ve heard, you seem to be doing quite well in your classes. Are things going as well socially?”

Harry’s face had Professor Flitwick somewhat nervous.

“Socially things are going fine, sir. My fellow Ravenclaws are really nice, and I plan to take steps to interact more with the other Houses as well. With your permission, I will leave that for later in our meeting. Besides missing some of the activities that I would do at home or missing my friends and family that are not here, I’m not really having any issues on that front. That being said, my classes are not going quite as good as it may look. Potions and Herbology are dead easy. I don’t really understand how to do any of the classes using wands…” Harry trailed off while Professor Flitwick tried not to look at the boy like he was insane. He specifically remembered seeing Harry’s feather float practically before any of the other students had grabbed their wands. He had heard similar things from the other teachers (Severus being the exception).

“What do you mean you are having trouble in your classes? I know for a fact that you are showing great talent in charms and the majority of your other teachers have said the same!”

“You see sir, getting my magic to do what it’s told isn’t the problem. It’s getting it to do it the way we’re being taught. I was really hoping that you might have some pointers. I can get a feather to float just fine. Saying wingardium leviosa with a swish and flick doesn’t do anything. I have yet to get my magic to go through my wand at all, besides the sparks it gave off at Mr. Ollivander’s. Do you have any ideas that could help?” 

Professor Flitwick was quite flummoxed. A few talented sixth and seventh years might manage the very beginnings of wandless OR wordless magic. Men like Dumbledore could actively use both with some effort. That this eleven-year-old had wielded it expertly enough that no one noticed seemed insane. 

“Could you give me an example, Harry? Now that I am looking for it, could you show me how you utilize magic?”

Moments later, the teapot was pouring more tea into their cups. At the same time, a quill lying on the desk turned into a small figurine of an owl. Professor Flitwick clapped his hands in wonder and glee. Unfortunately, this surprised Harry and caused the teapot to fall on the ground. Harry grabbed up the pieces, and in less than a minute the pot was whole again. Only a few cracks remained to show that there was any damage.

“I’m sorry that I broke your teapot, sir. I’ve never been really good at fixing things, so you may want to go back over my work with it to get rid of the cracks.”

Professor Flitwick just took a sip of his tea.

“My boy, may I ask why you are here? It seems as though you already have quite a mastery over your magic. What do you hope to gain from Hogwarts?”

 

Harry shrugged, “I want to learn how to do magic in the wizarding way. Can I get most of the results without a wand that others can with a wand? Sure, but I’m not doing it like my fellows would. How can I be a functional member of wizarding society if I do not understand its magic? I can feel my magic. I can manipulate it as needed. Some people who I greatly admire have told me that my magic is so used to other methods, it doesn’t resemble the magic of wizards at all. Will I ever get to a place where I primarily rely on my wand and do magic that way? Probably not. But I really want to learn how. Please, do you know of anything that can help me?”

Professor Flitwick sat back and looked at the boy though his mind was miles away. Decades earlier, his parents had feared that he would have some problems using a wand. Having spent his earliest years primarily in wizarding society (as opposed to goblin), that fear did not come to pass at least at Hogwarts. Years later, when he was trying to discover where a half-goblin like him belonged in the world, he had spent some time with his goblin relatives, leaving his wand behind. Dormant magic that had had no purpose in the wizarding world showed itself. For a time after he returned, he had to work hard to get his magic to work in the same manner as he was accustomed. The ‘muscle’ that caused magic to flow through a wand at specific words or motions had atrophied. He had a theory that when children started using magic, whatever form they were most familiar with would be what came easiest. Since children did not perform purposeful magic until they got their wands at 11, that is what they came to rely on.

If Harry Potter had had cause and means to become familiar with his magic before he received his wand, it made sense that it would not come easily to him. Thankfully, Professor Flitwick believed that he could draw on his own experience from when wand-magic did not want to work for him in order to help the boy. 

Shaking his head as he came back to awareness, Professor Flitwick smiled at the unique child in front of him. “I do believe that I may be able to help you, Harry. I have some exercises that I think would help you to learn how to get your magic to flow from your wand. I must commend you on your very Ravenclaw interest in learning a form of magic unfamiliar with you. Because of detentions and the like, I am not always available, but what say we try to meet three times a week - say Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays? I will send you a message during supper if I discover that I cannot meet that day in which case we shall aim for the day after. Does that sound like a plan? I’ll even throw in some Enyukiot at the end of each meeting.”

Grinning happily, Harry exclaimed that that would be wonderful. 

“Is there anything else you would like to discuss with me, Harry?”

“Professor, myself and the other first year Ravenclaws are of the opinion that the History of Magic course will teach us nothing. I have heard from the older students that many Ravenclaws simply form study groups within the House. I was wondering if it would be permissible for me to create a club where students from all the Houses could come and discuss the subject. By having more students, we could gain more insight on the different events and how they relate to today. The other Ravenclaw first years seem to really like the idea, and Padma Patil shared the idea with her sister. Quite a few Gryffindors seemed interested when they found out as well.” Harry declared all of this in quite a rush. He really wanted the club to happen as it could be used as a foundation for some of his plans for the future. 

Scratching his beard, Professor Flitwick had to admit that it sounded like a fine idea. He certainly had nothing against it; he was also proud that his student had had the presence of mind to request that the club be created (giving the faculty the chance to choose an official room for the club and the chance to check in occasionally) rather than just doing it on his own where the students could have accidentally found themselves utilizing an out-of-bounds area of the castle. Telling Harry that he had no problems with it but would bring the matter up with the Headmaster to confirm, he sent the boy to the Ravenclaw common room so that he wouldn’t miss curfew. 

Plans of listening to music had completely left Filius’ head. Tomorrow, Harry would be coming back for his first lesson on using a wand. Before that, he needed to find out the boy’s connection with the goblins. That information would be needed for him to create ways to help Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all liked my Professor Flitwick. Here's what he looks like. Thanks Fiona!
> 
>  
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161769596@N06/40340699520/in/dateposted-public/)


	7. Halloween Havoc pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Harry slowly gets the hang of wand magic, he decides to commit a prank worthy of the Marauders. Will his Halloween go according to plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another chapter for any readers that are still around! That being said, hopefully part 2 will be out tomorrow :)

Harry could hardly keep the grin off his face the day after he met with Professor Flitwick. He found himself counting down the hours and minutes until he would meet up with his professor. Hopefully, his wand would stop feeling like just an awkward stick in his hand soon. 

Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that Professor Flitwick was right to schedule meetings three times a week. Five lessons in meditation exercises passed before Harry could even remotely feel a connection with his wand. Ironically, it was through these same exercises that Harry discovered another aspect of his magic. Somewhere inside him, Harry began to feel the faint stirrings of something...wild and untameable, and it wanted out. Initially, Harry sought to ignore it. Making a reliable connection with his wand seemed much more important to the studious Ravenclaw after all.

By late October, Harry finally was _beginning_ to gain some semblance of order with his wand. Words still made little difference, but at least his magic could leave through the wand when he willed it. Harry wanted to find a place to study the wild energy inside himself. He also decided that soon he would show the school that Prongs’ son was in attendance. He had seen the Weasley twins pull a few wicked looking pranks and once overheard them saying “I solemnly swear I am up to no good” in the hall. He figured that, if no one else, those two would be able to appreciate a good prank. 

While pondering the perfect prank (it had to be absolutely epic) one day, Harry found himself on the seventh floor. A door appeared and entering, Harry found a prankster’s delight! There were scrolls and scrolls of ideas, an area with potions’ supplies, and an area to practice the spells on the scrolls. Looking closely, Harry could recognize some of the handwriting as that of his dad’s. Eventually, Harry came across a scroll that looked positively ancient. _How to Stop the Infantile Whinging of Those Who Refuse to Get Along_ was written in elegant script across the top of the page. Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of his head of house, was the author! Harry’s eyes bugged out even as he read with a fervor that he had not felt in a month. (AN Yes, Harry definitely was well-sorted into Ravenclaw). 

It seemed simple enough and remarkably well-suited for the upcoming holiday of Halloween. A potion was to be placed in the night’s drinks along with a spell on each of the seats. The potion would be no hardship. The spell would take some practicing - especially since Harry was not familiar enough with its effects to try just forcing his magic to comply. By October 30th, Harry felt as ready as he could be. He requested the aid of Hogwarts’ elves and was surprised to learn that The Grey Lady had already spoken on his behalf. Three drops of the shimmering, purple potion would be applied to everyone’s drink at the Halloween feast. Harry was just about to attempt the spellwork portion of the prank when he realized that it would need to be time-delayed, and wouldn’t it be nice if everyone was transported as well? Harry could feel his magic comply with postponing the effects of the spell until the feast. It wouldn’t be until later that he realized his musing about transportation had also come into play….

The next day, Harry was anxious for evening to come. Tonight would be his first prank, and if it worked aspects of it could be appropriate for the history club as well. So far, said club only had some first and second years, and no Slytherins were in attendance yet; hopefully that would change though. 

After lunch, Harry heard through Hogwarts’ rumor mill that one of the regulars in his club, Hermione Granger, was crying in the loo because someone insulted her for studying of all things! Harry, along with Padma (checking out the girls’ loo was too horrifying to contemplate), went up to investigate. 

It took a little while, and they were all a few minutes late to their next class (Transfiguration for Hermione and History for Harry and Parma), but Hermione had a smile on her face and was reassured about her friendships at Hogwarts. 

Harry mourned the end of classes that day. For all that he was nearly incapable of staying on task because of excitement, they did provide a diversion. Once Potions ended, Harry would have absolutely nothing to distract him until the feast! Just as Professor Snape was winding up the class, Harry started feeling a tugging, a pull in his mind. 

The professor hadn’t even finished saying “You may go” and Harry was out of his seat - running as if his life were in danger. Severus made a point to dock 20 points from Ravenclaw for the impertinence. The next wrong move out of Potter would be a detention. Snape still had to come up with a suitable detention for the boy. To see him at his first detentions, you would think chopping slugs and cleaning cauldrons was the height of entertainment! 

Harry could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Something was very wrong in his new home; he could feel her worry that something had entered the wards which shouldn't be there. pHad Harry been any other boy, he may have gone to a teacher. In fact, that is exactly what Hogwarts had asked him to do when she showed the creature entering by way of the Forest. Yes if Harry were any other boy, he likely would have gone for help. What could a first-year do against a fully grown troll after all? A first-year mightn’t be able to do much, but a child trained in the goblin art of battle would be able to do some damage, however. 

After a detour to grab his weaponry, Harry popped to the edge of the Forest. There he found a horrific sight. While the troll rained trouble on the plants around him and seemed engaged in battle with some local centaurs, some /thing/ had hurt a young unicorn whose coat seemed to be still in the process of turning a sleek white. The monster attacking the foal seemed to be sucking its blood.

Deciding that the centaurs had the troll under control for the moment, Harry went to desperately try to save the unicorn. 

It was terrifying to see the creature seemingly not react to wounds created by a goblin-styled weapon. Of course, why would it? Unicorn blood can bring a creature back from the brink of death. While physical violence would be suitable against the troll, it would do little here. Harry's magic reacted to the weak neigh of the dying unicorn and flung the monster away while Harry’s body froze. Two voices sounded at once. 

The first seemed almost snake-like: “Sssilly child. What a misstake you've made”. It sounded as though it found the situation humorous. The second voice seemed to be submissive to the first and was familiar: “Master, you are too weak. Please let me remove this annoyance for you. Ah! Please permit me a sip of the blood to heal these wounds.” 

Professor Quirrell was the second voice! Any mercy Harry might have felt towards the host of that evil parasite vanished when he heard him speak. Quirrell was not an unwilling victim; no, he was a very willing accomplice who saw nothing wrong with the vile deeds taking place. He even seemed excited to kill a student placed in his care! Too bad he would discover that Harry did not go down easily. 

Placing a shield around the foal so that no more blood could be unwillingly taken, Harry once more took hold of his sword. With the blood in its system and the intent to kill him in his eyes, Harry knew that he could not show any mercy. He could think of very few ways to stop an opponent willing to take on the curse given to those who drank unicorn blood. Harry knew that he would have to pull out all the stops if he wished to survive this encounter and stop the monster in front of him. 

Quirrell seemed to have forgotten that any spells existed outside of the Unforgivables. Avada Kedavra green flew by Harry more times than he could count as he bounced from place to place, desperate to get within striking range. The majority of his magic was busy trying to destroy the parasite so that it could not try to find another host. Harry could feel beads of sweat pour down his forehead, and he knew that without his training with the goblins and the adrenaline rush, his limbs would be shaking badly from the strain of battle. Harry could see nothing but Quirrell and the sickly green and yellow spells rushing past. Things seemed to go strangely silent, and time slowed as he dodged and used his sword to block - his only thought was to get closer, closer. 

As Harry slowly gained ground, Quirrell was backing up. Fighting with a wand, he did not need to be near to be on the offensive. That...would prove to be his downfall. In the same way that Harry’s entire focus was on the battle, so too what Quirrell’s. Just as Harry’s magic had finally managed to contain the parasitic magic, Quirrell took one step too many. It turns out that the injuries sustained by a troll’s club moving at high velocity towards one’s head are quite gruesome. Theoretically, with unicorn’s blood one might be able to survive long enough to get treatment if someone is nearby to assist you. Unfortunately for Quirrell, Harry had much more important things to worry about than saving his homicidal professor from death. The centaurs were running out of ammunition and needed help to stop the troll that Quirrell had sought to bring to the castle. Further, the young unicorn was still bleeding sluggishly. 

With his magic no longer busy with the wraith, battling the troll was almost too easy. Arrows may not have been able to pierce its thick hide, but Harry’s sword was quite up to the job. Popping made it easy to stay out of the way of its club while still getting close enough to create damage. Finally, a well-placed slice brought it to its knees. Wanting to rush to the unicorn’s aid, Harry conjured heavy chains by which to bind the creature.

By the time Harry reached the foal, it was weak with blood loss. Knowing that the foal would likely die without immediate intervention, Harry sought to scoop up a little of the blood. It seemed wrong to touch something so pure, but he could not think of another way to halt the damage. He only hoped the the foal would drink from his hand. While one hand was held to the unicorn’s mouth, the other was hovering over the wound on the foal’s neck. If he could close the wound, he might be able to save the innocent one. Harry mourned not having any midnight elderberries on him. He knew that the black berries had healing properties especially as concerns bloodloss. Just as his magic started to knit back together, Harry felt a tongue gently lap at his hand. Now if the young one could only hold on long enough for him to find the berries! To his left, Harry saw movement. A centaur came and without a word dropped some of the needed fruit. Harry had not realized that he had spoken. It was necessary to feed them to the foal one-by-one because of its weakness though it gained strength with each swallow. 

By the time Harry was finally able to stand and leave his charge, a gathering had come and surrounded him. Four unicorns came forward and helped the foal up. The largest of the group came towards Harry and gently touched him with its horn. Harry could not say how he knew, but he suddenly found himself with an...awareness. Should he have the need, the unicorns would come to his aid. 

Next came the centaurs. He faintly recognized some from the battle. Harry was told of the stars and planets. He was told that Mars had been bright but the moon had begun to hide it from view. While the centaurs acknowledged that Harry came at the request of Hogwarts, they also stated that Quirrell and the troll had caused much damage in the forest and could have caused more without his intervention. Again, Harry was given the promise of help should he need it so long as he continued to hold the protection of the innocent as his goal. 

When Harry returned to the castle, he knew that he should talk to Professor Flitwick about the bound troll and Quirrell’s remains. With any luck, everything could be taken care of before the feast. His body had other ideas, however, and Harry found himself falling asleep in his bed without any memory of how he got there - his dreams plagued by his professor being clobbered by a troll’s club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please R&R. 
> 
> Concerning the parasite, yes that was Voldemort. I have finally chosen a side concerning whether this series would have Voldie or not. In this world, Voldemort was originally defeated by a group effort of the Order of the Phoenix, not a baby whose mom loved him a lot. Harry does not have the Boy-Who-Lived label following him around as a result. Because of horcruxes, however, Voldemort was not fully destroyed. Harry's magic has destroyed one part of Voldemort. Only how many more to go?


	8. Halloween Havoc pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry...he just can't catch a break!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part 2!

Harry had desperately wanted to talk to his professor. Unfortunately, it was not to be… at least not for a few more hours. By the time Harry awoke from his nap, it was nearly time for the beginning of the feast, and Professor Flitwick had already gone down. Harry smiled riley. Could it really have been just earlier today that his only concern had been this feast and a silly little prank? 

Nothing for it, Harry changed out of his bloodied clothes and went down resolved to get a little food in no matter how little his stomach liked the thought.

Harry had entered battle before. He had even killed...but before was different - a rabid gorquil was his only kill up close. Even then he had cried. Harry knew that sometimes it can be necessary to save those you care for, but the cold, empty feeling afterwards would always fill him up inside. While Harry would never regret the kill - that time or this because it was necessary and saved lives, he mourned the lives lost at his hand too. He would never stop doing what was necessary, whatever that might be.

Entering the Great Hall was harder than he expected. The atmosphere was _too_ cheery. The pumpkins’ smiles too big. He could see many of his friends smiling with fists full of sugary goodness. Sitting down, he tried to put on a good face, but those who were beginning to know him could tell something was not quite right. After the third interrogation on whether he needed to visit Madame Pomphrey, Harry stood intent on leaving. He could hear about the prank second-hand from his friends. 

The day wasn't finished with Harry yet. Before the little first-year could leave the Ravenclaw table, a seventh-year Gryffindor stood importantly and cast a Sonorous. He looked like one of the idiots who had wanted to kill Fee (see Harry Gets a Familiar if you don't know who Fee is). 

“Excuse me, I'm sooo sorry to put a pause to this great feast,” Harry was pretty sure that people who were sorry didn't normally look so satisfied with themselves. “but a horrible travesty has been committed against all of us. It has recently come to my attention that a monster has been let into our beloved school with the headmaster's permission! It should come to no surprise that said monster is a snake.” Here the Slytherins started booing causing the Gryffindor to pause momentarily. “What? It's true! Only Slytherin could be filthy enough to house a _werewolf_ in its midst without anyone finding out.” 

Before Headmaster Dumbledore could put a stop to the madness, Harry stood on top of the Ravenclaw table. Where once he seemed to be an insignificant first-year, now he radiated power. Any thought of revenge on the part of the Slytherins was put on hold because of it. In spite of a distinct size difference, the Gryffindor instinctively backed down to let Harry speak. 

At the same time, Harry's “prank” sprang into action. Suddenly, everyone but the first-year standing on his table found themselves seated at another table. Looking at their reflections in the silverware, it was obvious that a strong illusion hid their true identities. In the ensuing chaos, it was quickly learned that everyone's voices had been altered to match their new looks. After a minute of the bedlam, Harry took control. Afterwards, a great debate would break out over what he used to calm down the insanity. Some would say that he used a deafening blasting hex. Others would claim that lightening bolts rained down in the Great Hall. Still others would insist that he had cast a massive silencing charm that would only be lifted when he wished for them to speak. 

“Yes, everyone has taken on another identity. Yes, I am behind it. Time to move on. I believe that one of you decided that it was your solemn duty to reveal another's secret to the entire school? Before you take the claim, I should remind you that while your voices and looks have changed, everyone will know who you are if you don't at least attempt to remain anonymous. Unless I have completely missed my mark, during your /attempt/ to get the school behind you against a lycan in your midst, you managed to quite severely anger one-fourth of the entire school. You may be safer pretending to be someone else.”

“That being said, we do need to come to a consensus on what to do about this situation. I _propose_ that we take an initial vote, and then both sides can plead their case. Those who have a problem with a werewolf being in the school, please move to either the Gryffindor or Hufflepuff tables. If you don't, move to Slytherin or Ravenclaw, and for Merlin's sake, right now you are completely anonymous. No one will know if a snake or lion is sitting at the opposite table. Heads of House, I mean no insult to your houses naming them on one side or the other on this debate. I'm simply trying to give ample room to both sides of the debate. If you are a professor, I ask that you too pick a side. At the moment, you are all in disguise and so should be free from censure if you disagree with the Headmaster.” After everyone moved (with a fair bit of grumbling at being ordered around by a first-year), Harry reiterated once more that one's identity was only safe if they managed to not say or do something that was in-character.

Harry was saddened that the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff side was full to the point of some having to stand whereas the Ravenclaw and Slytherins had room to spread out. Before Harry could speak out again, two individuals stood. Both were seated on his side of the hall. 'Dean Thomas' started. “Harry, you don't have to do this. It's not your fight. I'm sure that...whoever the werewolf is, he understands that regular people don't want to be in classes with him or in the same dorm. Hell at least he got to finish his OWLs; that's more than most child lycanthropes can say.” 

Before Harry could respond, 'Vincent Crabbe' spoke up using a much wider vocabulary than the original Crabbe was likely capable of. “My dear boy,” he said to 'Dean' “while I agree that this is not the young Mr. Potter's fight, I find myself extremely pleased that he has sought to do so, and while showing such an unexpected mastery of magic to do so! I shan't be surprised in the least if he earns his house at least thirty house points for this, regardless of outcome. That being said, I really wish that both he and Ryan Westrup would be more willing to leave such issues for the faculty to straighten out.”

At this point, students started getting restless, and Hogwarts had decided which side she was firmly on. Before anyone could decide to just leave the Great Hall, the doors had slammed shut and locked themselves. At this point, Harry spoke up. He declared that they would go through in an orderly fashion. Everyone on the opposite Gryffindor/Hufflepuff side would get a chance to speak their piece against lycanthropes going to Hogwarts with the Slytherin/Ravenclaw side (a.k.a. Harry) having the chance to rebut their claims. 

When the first person came up, it seemed as though many would be swayed. He spoke well and brought up many of the known dangers of interacting with the rabid beasts known as werewolves. Werewolves were known for their deception (as proven by one being able to be in their midst for who knows how long without it being known). Their goal was to turn as many innocents into beasts as possible, and besides it isn't as though they were intelligent enough to comprehend what was taught at Hogwarts anyways! Indeed, before he had even finished speaking, some were trying to inconspicuously make their way to the other side of the hall. 

Then Harry cut through the argument as though it was made of butter. If a werewolf's goal was to turn others into beasts like them, why had there been no attacks during the school year? The only werewolves known for actively wanting to bite humans outside of the full-moon was Fenrir Greyback and his pack. Other packs willingly locked themselves away from wizards even knowing that doing so could result in self-injury. Concerning grades, it was well-known that Hogwarts did not give many second chances. The grades you got were the ones you were stuck with. If it was true what 'Dean' had said and the unknown werewolf actually had taken his OWLs, he obviously comprehended enough. While it was true that few werewolves wore shirts stating that they were such, the reason behind that wasn't an innate wish to deceive. It was an attempt to avoid the hatred and prejudice that was often shown towards them. 

By the time Harry had finished speaking, everyone from his side of the room had returned and some had even come over from the other side. And so it continued. Some individuals didn't have a problem with lycanthropes so much as they wanted an excuse to get rid of another Slytherin from the school. When they spoke up, Harry always got to the heart of the matter and spoke of how each of the houses had their good and bad members and that the characteristics of a good Slytherin were not, in and of themselves, bad things. Some people, seeing that the tide was turning and arguing with Harry would only result in their feeling humiliated, tried to sneak away to Harry's side. Harry always told them that if there was even a small iota of doubt in their minds about their safety or whether it was right for lycans to be allowed into Hogwarts, they should stay on their side. Harry wanted the entire school to be unified on this topic. While many topics brought up were just slight reworkings of previously discussed concerns, eventually someone came up with something that wasn't just based on society's prejudice. Sneering, 'Susan Bones' began “I know someone who very nearly was bitten by one of these monsters. This was not a case of Greyback or his group but a theoretically _harmless_ wolf who was locked up. Is it right that he be forced to interact on a regular basis with this furry beast?” 

Harry was silent for a moment. It seemed as though he might not know what to say. Then he began. “Is it good that your..friend had to go through that no doubt terrifying experience? No. Is it the fault of the werewolf who by your own admission was locked up that this occurred? No. Let me pose a question. What would have happened had your friend been attacked and survived? Should your friend have been kicked out of school? Should he have been banished from his family and fired from his job? That is likely what would have happened as a result. Lycanthropes should not be outcast for something that they had no control over. It is that which I am against. I am sorry that that happened to your friend, but I cannot say that all lycanthropes should be punished and denied a quality of life that your friend managed to maintain only because he missed the bite.”

Shortly after this, it became overwhelmingly obvious that no one had an argument that could hold up against Harry's passionate use of logic and facts. When someone questioned how long a werewolf could keep the secret at Hogwarts, Amou willingly stood and asked Harry to remove the enchantments that disguised him as Dean Thomas. Many of the seventh-years were shocked, but knowing that this unassuming peer of theirs who never caused trouble was the werewolf in question only solidified things. It took almost two hours, but finally it was decided that lycans in general and Amou in particular deserved an education. The students slowly filtered out. While some would stop by the kitchens to finish the interrupted dinner, many were too full of new thoughts to contemplate eating.

 

In the various common rooms, students (now looking like themselves) were deep in discussion about the night's events. In Gryffindor, Harry's friends in first-year were proud of their friend for being brave enough to speak up against a seventh-year. Because they mostly knew him from the study group, they hoped that they could convince him to tell them more about what he knew about werewolves. It sounded fascinating, and they wanted to know enough to defend their new ideas. Some of the other lower-year students asked them about the strange Ravenclaw. The students in the upper-years found themselves ashamed at how one of their own had acted. They were used to being known as the house of the light. It angered them that one of their number had spoken out and made them all look like pig-headed idiots. Having heard about the strange study group that some first-years participated in, it was decided that those who could should go to a few of the meetings to try and redeem the house socially. 

Hufflepuff was not divided at all. They saw the hard work and loyalty that Harry felt for those who were persecuted. Why he had not made it into their house was a mystery. It was decided as one that Hufflepuff wanted to get to know Potter better. As far as they were concerned, Harry was an honorary 'Puff, and that was all there was to it.

The Ravenclaws were proud of their young member. He had argued his case well and used well-researched facts to do it. They fell under two umbrellas – those who wanted to know his resources (and squeeze him for more information, especially about those spells) and those who just wanted for him to return so that they could give him a hero's welcome. Some of the stragglers had heard the teachers talk about giving him a full 45 points for this stunt alone!

The Slytherins were not stupid. They knew power when they saw it, and they knew that getting on Potter's bad side would be monumentally stupid. Not only did he manage to turn practically the entire school to his way of thinking, but he showed a magical prowess that should not have been possible at his age. Slytherin would definitely start showing its face in his club, if only to get on his good side. They also wouldn't be underestimating a certain werewolf in their midst anymore. Anyone who could hide under their noses for seven years was a worthy Slytherin indeed, and if Potter's ambitions ever came to fruition, werewolves might not be the dregs of society for much longer....

 

Harry collapsed almost immediately after the last student left the Hall. He awoke to hear Madame Pomfrey give the headmaster a stern talking to for allowing him to deplete his magical reserves so much. Wincing, he sat up and, getting their attention, explained that what happened in the Great Hall had not used much magic at all and that Hogwarts had actually helped with some of it. When the adults insisted to know what he could have possibly been up to that caused such magical fatigue, Harry insisted on Professor Flitwick's presence and quietly explained that he had been in battle earlier that day. When his voice began shaking with emotion, Professor Flitwick quietly suggested the use of a pensieve. Even Flitwick who knew about Harry's friendship with the goblins and proficiency in magic was gobsmacked to watch the scene play out. It angered him that his student's life had been in danger like that; it saddened him that the boy felt he had to take care of the situation himself. He was so thankful that his training kept him alive until Quirrell was hit by the troll's club. 

Dumbledore felt bile rise up when he heard that voice. It was one that he hadn't heard in ten years. He had hoped to never hear it again. That young Mr. Potter had seemingly fought it to a standstill with his magic was heartening. He only hoped that the boy would leave such fights to the adults from now on...somehow he got the feeling that that was a foolish hope. 

As Dumbledore and Flitwick left to let Harry rest, they both went to the Headmaster's office. The Potters needed to be told of the day's events.

Predictably, James and Lily were not happy to discover that their son had battled Voldemort one-on-one in Hogwarts. They had hoped that the Order's combined attempt to destroy Voldemort and his minions would allow their son to live in peace. That being said, they had never been more glad that they had agreed to his unconventional education before Hogwarts. Hearing about the events of that evening caused their hearts to swell with pride at the son they had raised. They vowed to do everything they could to protect their son and to help him with the battles he was choosing to face. When Harry's (carefully edited) account of his Halloween prank came by owl the next day, James couldn't decide if he should be proud of a masterful prank or sad that what should have been lighthearted became so serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal! I have literally had this scene in my head since IKYAW began. Frankly, there were versions of it before IKYAW was a seedling. Please comment and lemme know what you think about one of the founding scenes of IKYAW.


	9. Student Dreams and Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Amou's classmates have a lot to think about. Change is in the air, and emotions run wild. What is Draco planning? Why is Ron feeling conflicted? And wait! Is there a whiff of romance on the horizon?

Draco Malfoy was not an idiot. He knew that the events at tonight’s dinner had the potential to be a game changer. Politically, the alignment of historically Dark, Light, and Neutral families on controversial issues like werewolf rights could cause huge change once his generation took over in the Wizengamot. There was only one issue. He knew that for himself and probably many other students, being outspoken about these views could lead to being disowned. Being kicked out of one's Family would likely cause at least some of his peers to go against that 7th year, Amou. Turning over in his four-poster bed and staring at the magnificent green curtains, Draco resolved to create a contract that the students could sign at Potter's next club meeting. He had a feeling that most of the school would be there and getting on Potter’s good side could only be beneficial.

_Draco did not know what he was doing back home. Shouldn’t he be back at Hogwarts? He was in his bedroom waiting...for something. That’s it! Father was going to call him down for another lesson after he finished meeting with the minister. Draco jumped off his bed - weird, it seemed higher than usual - and went to go find his chess set. Father had said that excellence in chess would be a good way to show his superiority over his peers in Slytherin and good practice for politics. Perhaps after his lessons on proper behavior around the high end of society, they could play a game. Unfortunately, the chess set was nowhere to be found. Draco did find Grass, his green stuffed dragon. He thought that Grass was thrown out years ago. Eleven-year-olds were much too old for stuffed animals after all._

_A house-elf just popped in. It’s time for his lessons with Father. He thought he had more time. He’s sitting in front of Father, and learns that today he’ll begin to learn about some of society’s filth. No, that’s not right! He heard this years ago! Draco wants to ask Father why they are repeating this discussion. A stern look at his squirming prevents him from opening his mouth. Out of Father’s mouth spews the same arguments against werewolves that Draco repeated on Halloween, the same arguments that Potter sliced through like butter. Maybe Draco can ask Daddy why he thinks these things. Maybe Draco can find out how Daddy who is always right hasn’t thought of the things Potter said. Could he have? Maybe Daddy has a reason that Potter didn’t think about. Draco kinda hopes he does, so he can go back to seeing his Daddy as the hero he is (was? Is? It’s hard to decide). Draco also hopes that if Potter /is/ right, Daddy will be able to see that. Daddy is reasonable isn’t he? When they play Quidditch on his Junior Quidditch pitch, Daddy never gets angry if Draco drops the quaffle or can’t catch the snitch. Daddy is good._

_Daddy is angry. He says if Draco is going to go against what Daddy says then Draco isn’t his son anymore. Daddy slaps Draco like he would slap one of the house-elves. He says Draco is not good anymore. Daddy doesn’t see Draco anymore; he just sees a Disgrace in Draco’s seat. He tells the house-elves to take him out with the rest of the trash. Draco cries in fear. He doesn’t want to leave his home._

Draco sat up in his four-poster bed. He could see the shimmering green curtains but was unable to recognize them. Slowly, he remembered. It was a dream, just a dream based on a memory...what would have happened had he spoken against Father. 

Before Draco showed the magical contract to Harry, he added a clause - outsiders must not know the details of life at Hogwarts without an oath to not act against its inhabitants.

\-----------

Draco was not the only person whose sleep was disturbed after the feast. Several others found themselves pondering their world. 

 

Cedric Diggory was horrified when he saw his classmate Annabelle Wisket softly crying in the Hufflepuff common room long after everyone else had calmed and gone to bed. The fourth year was trying to figure out a means back to his dorm when she realized he was there. Nodding for him to come closer, she began speaking.

“I’ve been an only child for so long; I’d almost forgotten about him,” Annabelle sniffled

“Who?” Cedric asked.

The fourth-year just sighed and continued to speak, almost to herself.

“Arnold was so strong. Even though he was just a few minutes older, he always tried to help and protect me. It was his job as my older brother, apparently. That used to make me so mad! We were always playing these stupid tricks on each other and our parents. Once when we were about to turn six, we snuck out to play outside. The moon was too pretty to stay inside. I-I don't remember much, just snippets. We heard something rustling in the woods by our house. My brother was standing in front of me cause a huge dog, a werewolf, was snarling and snapping its teeth. I must have blacked out the rest. I woke up in St. Mungo's. A neighbor heard our screams and got us away. But, but when I asked about Arnold, everyone told me that he had been hurt too badly and was gone now. No one would talk about him. Pictures of us together were taken down. It was as if Arnold had never existed. Momma told me to forget about him, to forget my brother! The worst thing is...I did. There wasn't even a funeral. Could my brother be alive? Did my parents cast him out for protecting me? Has he forgotten me, like I did him? Oh Merlin, he must hate me. I want my brother back!” 

In turns, Cedric would hear great sadness in the girl’s voice, followed by intense anger. From what he could pick out from her ramblings, a great disservice may have been committed against her brother. He was saddened to know that said disservice was common. Before tonight, he could not say with certainty how he would have reacted to it. Cedric’s heart ached. 

Carlisle Durand was certain that he had witnessed the beginning of a revolution. It hurt to know that he had stood at the side of the oppressors. As a 6th year mudblood in Slytherin, surely he shouldn't have been blinded by wizarding society’s mindless prejudice. Most of his House barely tolerated him for something he couldn't control. What right did he have to judge Amou? What did it say that a first-year Ravenclaw spoke in his defense first? Eric's head hurt. He knew that Potter's mum was a mud-muggleborn. If Potter reacted to Amou’s situation so violently, somehow he didn't think mudblood would be popular for much longer. That boy was going places, and he was going to drag the rest of the world with him! In the words of his ancestors “Vive la resistance!”

Miakoda felt like she was her House’s mascot, the eagle - strong and sure in flight. Her heart pounded in her ears as she thought of what tonight's revelations meant. For years, she had watched the handsome Slytherin from a distance. She had yearned to talk to him, to get to know the soul behind his shields. Every attempt had been rebuffed. Discovering that he was a lycan gave her a surge of hope. Maybe knowing that she didn't care, that she had an uncle with lycanthropy across the ocean, would give her a chance with the man her heart wished to know. Sighing as sleep claimed her, dreams of a necklace floated in her mind's eye. It was like the necklace her uncle wore, a gift from her aunt. Miakoda sat up abruptly. Suddenly nothing was more important than getting the stones from her dream. Amou needed that necklace! 

Ronald Weasley was conflicted. Werewolves were monsters weren’t they? His eyes gazed at the wizarding photo in front of him. Every member of the family carried this photo, the last taken with his sister Ginny. He barely remembered his sister. A vicious werewolf killed her when he was only five afterall. Potter’s words haunted him, however. If she had survived, she would be a werewolf too. Part of him had felt like he was dishonoring her when he moved to the other side. Another, stronger, side had been haunted by the idea that children just like her might not be allowed to learn at Hogwarts. He was gratified to see the twins follow him. Even with one dressed as a seventh year Hufflepuff and another as a first year Slytherin, they still had recognized each other, and Ron knew their step. As Ron tucked the precious image away, he decided that he wanted to know more...about the girl his sister might be, had she survived.

\-------

It felt strange to Amou, going to talk to Harry in full view of the school. Of course, any effort to stay under the radar of his peers had pretty much disappeared over the last week. He had had multiple people come up to him - some to apologize, others to ask if there was anyway to contact loved ones long forgotten. For the first, he told them that he had never expected any different. For the second, he had written his Alpha for advice. Needless to say, the response had been somewhat incredulous, demanding to know what had happened...Amou still didn’t know how to put the response in words. It was for that reason that he needed to talk to Harry. He wanted his alpha to meet the one responsible for all the changes, but he would not suggest such a thing without knowing the brave first-year was amenable to the idea. Before he could begin, however, Harry spoke up.

“Some of the others in the club are interested in learning more about lycanthropy for one reason or another. Would you mind my adding it as a topic in my History/Debate club? Actually, do you wanna teach the lessons?” Harry asked with a rush.

Amou had gone to the last meeting and seen the dramatic increase in attendance...logic would say the numbers should diminish soon. That same logic would claim that his being at Hogwarts should not have outlived everyone discovering his secret. Amou had a feeling that any lessons on lycanthropy would have almost everyone in the school there, and he felt ill just thinking about teaching a group of that size. He shooked his head violently even as he gave Harry the okay to teach everyone else. 

“Great!” Harry exclaimed with an enthusiasm only seen in the very young. “Hey Amou, what’s the name of the bookstore you got those books from? I get the feeling I’m going to need a few more sets.” That mischievous grin almost caused a shiver to run down Amou’s back.

“I’ll get you a owl catalogue for the place in the next few days…. Hey Po-Harry, I, see the thing is, would you be comfortable meeting my Alpha if I could arrange it with the headmaster? I understand if you don’t want anyone to know about your role in, well, the other night...But my Alpha is asking some questions, and anything you said would be held in the strictest confidence!” 

Amou was still busy berating himself for stuttering and thinking the boy would go for the idea, when Harry responded, “Sure! Let me know when you get it set up.” 

A bell rang, signalling the end of breakfast. Amou was just about to begin his trek to Transfiguration when a shadow slipped next to him. Miakoda, a Ravenclaw he’d had a crush on since second year, was standing beside him. As she stood on her toes to whisper something in his ear, Amou came to accept that stuttering may become his primary means of communication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who is still reading, I'm terribly sorry for the long hiatus. I can't promise that updates will be every week, but I will be trying to do better (comments may help increase update speed *hint hint*). I hope you enjoyed this short interlude. I wonder what changes Harry will cause next. Here's hoping Madame Pomfrey has plenty of heart revitalizer potion for the professors!
> 
> I love reading your comments and receiving kudos.


	10. Of Letters and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alpha receives a letter. A brother must make a decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the long wait. Life, plus a too-complex goal for this chapter is to blame for the long wait. Originally, this little snippet, inspired by a comment by Child_Of_Eru, was going to begin a more lengthy meat-filled chapter. Then I realized that said chapter was going to have to be a two-parter and part one was maybe halfway done. Long story short? I decided to throw y'all this bone by itself. Hopefully, more lengthy plot-based chapters will follow in the next week or two. I plan to continue this side-plot (and others) intermittently throughout the story though some characters may warrant their own side story. Thanks for everyone who is keeping up with this and all of the lovely comments. I know y'all don't get to see the proof of it, but your comments are honestly what keep me slowly updating this brainchild.

Eyolf woke up quite surprised to find an unfamiliar tawny owl scratching at his window. Tawnies were not typically used for messages to/from the Lycan community. Only certain breeds were typically able to ignore the inner wolf enough to be useful. This bird was obviously an exception to the rule, landing gracefully on his shoulder to wait patiently for its burden to be relieved.

It was obvious that the writer was nervous just from the wobbly cursive and barely-there sweaty handprint. Barely a line in, Eyolf sat down heavily from the unexpected content.

 

_Alpha Eyolf of the North Welsh Pack,_

_I am Annabelle Wisket, a fourth-year Hufflepuff at Hogwarts whom everyone believes to be an only child. In reality, I have a brother named Arnold...at least that was his name when I knew him. Eight years ago, we had snuck out in the middle of the night…. The last time I saw my brother, he was trying to protect me from a ~~werewolf~~ lycan. When I awoke, they told me Arnold was gone. I was encouraged to forget my brother. I did forget him, something for which I will never forgive myself. Sorry, I guess I better get to the point. All of my research suggests that if he is alive, ~~something that I increasingly believe to be the case,~~ he would have become a member of your pack. Arnold, if he is there, likely has extremely curly blond hair and a very prominent nose ~~unless he grew into it...I remember teasing him about his nose~~. He’ll have a scar on the palm of his hand. The Wiskets are known for being short. He’s probably barely 5’4” if that. All I ask is for you to tell him that Annabelle Wisket, the sister he got hurt protecting, has written and would he please write back just so I know he’s alive? I understand if he doesn’t want anything to do with me...I just, I need to know if he's okay. He's my brother, and unlike our parents, a bite won't stop me from calling him that._

_Annabelle_

Immediately, Eyolf knew who Annabelle’s brother was. Alawick fit her description perfectly though over the years he had begun to grow into his nose, as she put it. Eyolf hadn’t noted a scar on the boy’s palm, but scars rarely stood out in his world. What did stand out, however, was this letter. It was rare for blood-family to remain true to their Lycan relatives. This Annabelle risked much in trying to find a brother her parents had denied. Eyolf wondered if it wouldn't be a kindness to burn the letter. Protect Alawick should her perspective change; protect her should her parents react negatively. No...Alawick was old enough, and she had made her position clear. It needed to be Alawick's choice. 

That night, Alawick’s hand shook. He had read his sister's words until they were burned into his brain. Though he had spent years trying to forget the family that denied him (and indeed he was unable to get more than a vague sense of what his biological parents even looked like), he remembered Annie. His heart soared that she wanted him to write, that she hadn't willingly denied him. That didn't stop the shaking of his hand. Finding the right words was difficult; had an hour already passed? Taking a deep breath and feeling as though he were diving off a cliff, Alawick began:

_Dear Annie,_

_I am your brother…  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand now we see the result of Annabelle's remembrance. I rewrote her scene in the previous chapter to match the events depicted in this. Thanks again for the wonderful comments. In the next chapter - old friends will come into play and Professor Flitwick will learn a thing or two...


	11. Gallivanting with Goblins pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has been acting weirder than usual. A request by Dumbledore may give Professor Flitwick the answers he seeks or just create more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goblin phrasing is in italics. 
> 
> This resource was used for the goblin portions. I know it isn't HP goblin.  
> http://www.screwytruths.com/Goblin.html

Professor Flitwick was quite annoyed. Over two weeks had passed since he had last been able to meet for a special study session with young Mr. Potter because one of the first-year Ravenclaws had suddenly decided that curfew was unnecessary. When asked what took precedence over a good night’s sleep, the child would say only that some things were worth a detention. Oh well, nothing for it. Time for detention - Harry Potter’s 16th detention this month. 

“Mr. Potter, must you keep your silence? I am certain that if what you are doing is as necessary as you claim, I would be quite willing to help you. Perhaps working together, we could come up with a method that doesn’t force you to break curfew. Why all the secrecy, lad?”

“Professor, with all due respect - and despite my recent rule breaking, I do respect you - the work I am currently involved in is extremely delicate and something only I can do. Scratch that. I’m the only person who sees it as necessary. Unfortunately, when I work on this isn’t something I can control. On the bright side, I should be done in a few more days. Shall we schedule me for a week’s worth of detentions and then get back to our old meeting schedule?”

Professor Flitwick was speechless at the boy’s cheek. He merely pointed at the desk where Potter would write lines and hoped this nightmare really would disappear by the week’s end.

\------------------

Somehow, walking to the Headmaster’s office never really got easier. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been a student for decades. It never lost its intimidation factor. Given the events of the last few months, Filius wasn’t surprised in the least to discover that Albus wanted to see him about Harry Potter. The reason, however, that was quite the curiosity.

“Ah Filius, thank you for taking a moment to see me. Lemon drop?” Unlike most of his colleagues, Filius actually enjoyed the muggle sweet that so delighted Albus and happily grabbed a few. 

“I’m sure you are curious as to why I asked you to come. I had a most curious meeting with young Mr. Potter yesterday afternoon, the result of which will likely have far-reaching consequences. It seems that your young Ravenclaw is not content with current Hogwarts policy and has used his recent popularity as a result of Halloween to make changes to it. The boy has requested and received permission by both myself and his parents to attend to some business at Gringotts this Saturday during which he will finalize certain steps which we have discussed in detail. His parents have hinted that whoever escorts Mr. Potter should have some degree of familiarity with goblin culture or, as his father put it, “keep their trap shut”. While normally myself or Minerva would accompany the lad, I was hoping that you would be willing to escort him, and act as a representative of Hogwarts to sign whatever is required. Frankly, James Potter’s expression makes me rather hesitant to send anyone but you on this task. I also believe that certain inquiries that have plagued you concerning our young charge may be answered at that time. Well?”

Interest piqued, Flitwick immediately agreed and asked if there was anything he should keep in mind concerning the “representative of Hogwarts” aspect. The twinkle in Albus’ eye was slightly off-putting; his reassurance that anything mentioned would have most assuredly been covered during his discussion with an eleven-year-old was moreso. Nonetheless, Filius slept well that evening excited about Saturday’s arrival.

Filius Flitwick raised an eyebrow when he noted that Mr. Potter was using what appeared to be a notice-me-not charm. In response to the look, Harry explained that over the years he had discovered that what was appropriate on Goblin territory did not always elicit a positive response in the Alley and that using magic to help him blend in took care of the problem quite nicely. Filius did not comment on the supposed difficulty of the charm, nor on the legality of practicing magic while underage without a teacher present. Over the months, he had become quite used to such from the young Ravenclaw. He did ask if the charm could be altered such that he, at least, would not lose Harry in the crowd. He was unsure of what, precisely, the child could have to wear that would be “appropriate” on Goblin territory but not elsewhere. It was impressive really, that he managed to avoid reacting to the boy’s garb. Now he understood what Harry had meant. Harry was dressed quite appropriately - for a young goblin. 

Every goblin is trained from a young age for both peace and war. They learn of honor and dishonor; how to achieve one’s goals both with words and the sword. They spend hours in the smithy to discover the value of metal. Before one can train for battle, respect for the sword is taught by making one’s own. This weapon and those that follow are alternatively cursed during training and worn with pride by the young. Seeing Harry in the ceremonial armor a goblin youth would wear to a formal engagement was jarring though it shouldn’t have been. Filius had not forgotten seeing the boy use the sword at his side against a fully-grown mountain troll. Before his rebellion forced a stop to their meetings, it was not uncommon for Harry to slip into the goblin tongue. He knew that the boy was educated in goblin ways - his clothing choice just proved the extent of it.

Professor Flitwick gazed at his own robe, his wand sticking out of the pocket. He had thought that he would be going to Gringotts as a representative of Hogwarts who was familiar enough with custom to not give insult. It was now clear that he would be escorting Harry to the Goblin Nation for a purpose he could hardly fathom. Filius Flitwick excused himself. A wardrobe change was in order.

\-------

It quickly became clear that Flitwick had made the right choice in changing. Filius had originally assumed that the meeting would be with the Potter Account Manager. After a 20-minute cart ride into the depths of Gringotts and what seemed to be hours walking through a winding passageway, he started to get a hint of where they were going. As the walls changed from Gringotts’ cultured marble to drab grays and browns, he became sure. Eventually, their walk opened into a wide space; they were officially out of Gringotts and in the heart of the Goblin Nation, the city of _Gar’nash’t’kin_. Filius’ eyes widened as they entered the capital city. 

He had visited occasionally, of course, to see his mother’s relatives. What surprised the wizened old professor was the complete sense of ease that Harry Potter exuded. All business with wizards was conducted within Gringotts. Even the Minister of Magic would not be permitted this far into Goblin territory. Of course, the Minister wasn’t fluent in the Goblin tongue. Harry, on the other hand, was expertly twisting his mouth around the gutturals that Gobdekul (often called by the bastardized term of ‘Gobbledegook’ by wizards) was known for. Apparently, he knew their guide personally and was catching up on the going-ons of mutual friends. 

Harry: _“Tuun Kakuush man dhekal'dec Huukhaac ghagel?”_ (So Rainclaw has mated? With Sharphook right?)

Guide: _“On. Ac ogaagukaan an orlaar duun muul or or oguur. Daagaan an ghon huuch duun rhaan duuc!”_ (Yep. And everyone is eager to know of your exploits. There is much gold to be won!)

Harry: _“O hon taac duul duun ghon delkaan rhaakhec oc 'ghec oguur'. Togaal'dec daagaan agaan ghuugaan huuklekhakaan dan duun taac or delkaan.”_ (You have way too much interest in ‘my exploits’. Surely, the Honorable Nation’s brightest can think of more profitable ways to spend their time.)

Guide: _“Ar an okec akuuklekhakaan ar A rhaar duuc. Rhaarerthaan, or dreruulkuur an mach daan dhoc. Tach daan tar aklaar or rhorekaan an shuulkaakhaan?”_ (It is only unprofitable if we bet wrong. Besides, your discomfort is half the fun. Shall we spar after your business is complete?)

Harry: _“Togaan!”_ (Sure!)

Yeah, Flitwick was pretty sure his eyebrows couldn’t get any higher. At least this confirmed that he was trained with a group of young goblins. Filius noted the looks Harry and his friend were throwing him. They seemed amused by his expression. With some difficulty, he schooled his face and resolved to take the rest of this bizarre trip in stride. Nothing would surprise him!

And then he saw where they were walking to. By this time, they had passed the business district and several moderately wealthy clan dwellings. Straight ahead, however, was a place all goblins (or half-goblins) recognized. The large structure was the home of Ragnok VIII, _Dagar t’Kan_ \- The Warrior’s Refuge. They were going to meet Ragnok???

The surreal feeling most definitively did not die as they entered the regal building. The boys walked in as though they stopped by for _Enyukiot_ every day. His presence for the moment was ignored as some of Ragnok’s children and grandchildren suddenly swarmed Harry. The boy laughed freely and picked up the youngest of the lot who proceeded to lavish messy kisses on his cheek. The face he made was obviously exaggerated for the benefit of the others. What was Harry involved in to cause this reaction to his presence?

Their guide, who had disappeared in the confusion, returned. Flitwick was numb as he noted the royal crest he now wore and the adult following him. He quickly bowed to the King of the Goblins and was relieved to see Harry do the same, completely at ease. 

The rough, gravelly voice held a teasing note to it when it questioned if Potter had been corrupted by Hogwarts yet. Abruptly remembering a recent meeting in Harry's club where he had given lessons on good etiquette to use at Gringotts, a snort escaped from Flitwick. If anything, he was corrupting Hogwarts! 

Ragnok's sharp gaze was one of the most terrifying things he had ever seen though their eyes only met for a moment before the king declared enough of pleasantries and that they should retire to his office for business.

The monarch chuckled to see Flitwick’s discomfort. It was clear that he had not been expecting to meet a king today. 

“Harry, Harry, Harry...did you not think to give your professor _some_ warning? I've not seen such an expression of shock since I met your father!”

“I warned him! Well, sorta...we have _Enyukiot_ during study sessions, and he may have seen a memory of me battling a troll?” Harry trailed off sheepishly when Ragnok just raised an eyebrow.

“So he was aware that your important meeting, the topic of which I am still somewhat unclear on, was to take place outside of Gringotts, at my home, _Dagar t’Kan_ …”

“Ummm...Mum and Dad warned the Headmaster who warned Professor Flitwick that he was the best for the job because he was familiar with Goblins...Does that count?” 

Ragnok just tapped his long fingers on the desk. Sometimes being king was difficult, very difficult. _Must not grin. Must not grin. Laughing is not an appropriate response, Ragnok. Kings do not laugh._

Thankfully for Ragnok’s reputation, the three were interrupted by the abrupt entrance of Ranook and Grimhook literally tumbling into the room.

Their twin exclamations of “He did it!” had the surprising consequence of Flitwick forgetting whose office he was in. 

“Oh, my! It’s as though I never left the castle. Have you boys happened to meet the Weasley Twins by any chance?”

“Weasley Twins… Weasley Twins… hey Harry, aren't those the blokes you told us about? If I remember correctly, their inventions were quite genius. We were thinking of providing the startup if they agreed to open a goblin branch!”

Secretly agreeing with the assessment but feeling an obligation to forewarn the only other adult in the room, Flitwick dramatically exclaimed, “No, no! Goblin and humankind will never be the same! Your Majesty, you must put a stop to this.”

Whatever chance Ragnok had to remain straight-faced before collapsed in the face of Flitwick’s production. 

When he was once again capable of speech, Ragnok simply responded that goblinkind was irreversibly changed five years ago when he innocently asked what boon he could provide for a little boy.

The levity in the room seemed to be sucked out when Harry proceeded to solemnly prostrate himself before the King.

“ _Ghec Mec_ , my king, your kindness five years ago has given me tools of immeasurable value. Since I last entered Warrior’s Refuge, my battle training permitted me to survive a confrontation with one who would have gladly taken my life. My blade has tasted the blood of a troll in my adversary’s control. Training in the art of healing aided in my being able to save a true innocent. Finally, the numerous lectures on diplomatic training off the battlefield gave me the means to prevent an injustice from being committed against a friend and to make important changes in my new home. These skills combined are what brings me here today. I owe you a debt, yet I find myself at a loss concerning what boon I may be able to provide you in turn.”

“Child, you know our ways. You know of the proverb _‘Dhec dhuur haalaan ac or rhakec't druul del'daan dakec mel duun dhec dhuur haalaan ac daan druul or men shel'daac’_. When I agreed for you to join my son in his lessons, I did so with that in mind. I don't wish these trials on you, but training without the expectation that the skills learned may have real-world application is foolishness. I am glad that your time in our world has benefited you. Mark my words - no debt lies between our clans, nor is any boon sought after for this. The world would be a poorer place for your absence in it.” 

(Rough translation of proverb: Fight for peace to exist in your infant's lifetime while training him to fight for peace in the day of his children)

Harry nodded and hid his face. The others sought to give him a moment, pretending not to notice the impact Ragnok’s words had on him. Nonetheless, Ranook and Grimhook were among his closest friends, and they could see that their friend was deeply troubled by something. Hopefully, this meeting would help ease some of his concerns. 

Realizing that something was needed to lighten the tension in the room, Ranook (who had been Flitwick and Harry’s guide to _Dagar t’Kan_ ) casually reminded Harry that there were bets to be won concerning his first few months at Hogwarts. Details were required post-haste!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This resource was used for the goblin portions. Without it, this would've looked a lot differently.  
> http://www.screwytruths.com/Goblin.html
> 
> I get no money whatsoever for this. Your comments are what keep me going.


	12. Gallivanting with Goblins pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tells of his adventures and goals. Beware world...beware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS PART 2. Part 1 was also posted today and is the previous chapter.

Last Time:  
 _Realizing that something was needed to lighten the tension in the room, Ranook (who had been Flitwick and Harry’s guide to Dagar t’Kan) casually reminded Harry that there were bets to be won concerning his first few months at Hogwarts. Details were required post-haste!_

\--------

More than once, Ragnok’s presence had been required for a scene such as this so as to allow Ranook and Grimhook to have an impartial accounting of the latest Potter exploits to show their peers. Knowing that these details would likely be a good segue into the original reason Harry requested the meeting (and more than slightly curious besides), Ragnok motioned for Flitwick to remain silent. In time, all would be known.

Ragnok smirked to see his son take copious notes on everything from Harry’s sorting (such a strange social structure for a learning institution) to his budding friendships and class grades. It seemed that the goblin youth who ran in the three’s circle of friends had made bets on every minute detail. Part of Ragnok wondered if his son would be asking for information on how often the boy visited the loo. The smirk that formed on Ragnok’s face at that idea was one of the last to come during the recounting of events. 

Too soon, Harry had finished telling of September and most of October’s adventures. When the child actually flinched before describing the events of All Hallow’s Eve at the castle, those who knew him were aware that something significant had happened. The offer was quickly made and accepted to use a pensieve to show that day. Now Ragnok understood what had sparked his intense reaction. Though he stood by his statement that no boon was remotely called for, he could see how the traumatizing events of October 31 could cause such heartfelt gratitude in the boy. Had he had a traditional childhood, it is unlikely that he would have survived. Of course, a traditional childhood likely would have caused him to not notice Hogwarts’ plea for help in the first place…. 

\------------

“So yeah...that’s what has been happening at Hogwarts. Ummm...I’ve put the last boon you gave me to good use. The other week in the club, we started talking about common courtesy that should be used at Gringotts. One of the Slytherins actually bought a copy of Togar the Wise’s English to Goblin dictionary. I’ve been giving some lessons on how to write Gobdekul script. Of course, it’ll be awhile before we actually talk about word order or any of them are actually prepared to do business correspondence….”

At that, Grimhook burst into laughter. “I should have known. I should have known you were behind that little burst of insanity. Only...only you could-” 

Once he had calmed down sufficiently, Grimhook explained that contrary to expectations/assumptions, he was not here simply for juvenile bets (“It’s only juvenile because I won twenty galleons off you for betting which House he’d be in!” crowed Ranook) but was on a mission from his father to make Harry aware that a certain sum of money had been anonymously donated into a special vault for the betterment of Hogwarts…. Said vault was to be placed under the direct control of Harry Potter and used as he saw fit. While confidentiality laws did not allow Grimhook to share the anonymous donors' names, he did confirm that all but two had chosen to send their instructions to Gringotts in two languages - English and Gobdekul. Around the figurative water cooler, the letters were creating quite a stir due to the dearth of clients who wish to make an attempt at learning the Goblin tongue. 

By this point, Harry was hiding his head in his arms and proving his fluency in Gobdekul through some rather creative curses. Unfortunately, the others simply found this quite hilarious, and his head of House decided to use his role as Representative of Hogwarts to make his day complete. 

“Though we have not yet heard of your surely magnificent plans to better the school, I feel quite confident in saying that Hogwarts will cover any expenses remaining after the donation provided by her students.”

“Ugh, I'm really not going to be allowed to pay a knut toward this am I?”

“Now, now Harry. I assure you that a knut from your personal vault will be quite sufficient for your financial contribution” Ragnok stated with just the barest hint of a smirk.

“Would you care to explain the master plan that has so many of your peers going to extreme lengths to help finance it?” Ranook asked primly.

Eventually, Harry calmed sufficiently enough to explain that since Halloween, the students had been working on a plan that would allow more Lycan youth to have a formal education at Hogwarts.

“One of the largest hurdles, the need to keep things secret, has essentially been eradicated. With the second-seventh years being aware of the situation, it would be simple enough to create a suitable alibi. Miakoda, a 7th year Ravenclaw, suggested forming an exclusive, invitation-only club that meets twice a month (the full and new moons). Beyond that, my club would continue and discuss lycanthropy at some point each year. This way, even if a first-year discovered their friend was furry once a month, it would not cause much, if any, reaction. The next issue is of course funding,” turning to Grimhook, Harry continued, “I believe our dads have been coming up with a plan to fix that?”

With the feral grin of a goblin who knows something is happening that would anger most of the wizards at the Ministry, Grimhook gave more detail. “Your godfather and a few of my uncles are involved as well. Together, the Potter and Black names have a significant majority in the publishing companies of your textbooks. They have been convinced that Beowulf’s Bookshop on Lycan Lane would be an excellent secondary location in which to sell their merchandise. The Hook clan is working on growing the seed fund started by your father when he turned 17 to help fund Lycan education. Your father was quite generous such that after your uncle’s time at Hogwarts, every lycan since has had their tuition covered. In its current state, however, it would be unable to support a significant increase of students.”

“I will get your clan a list of low-risk, high payoff investment opportunities next week. The goal need not be an entirely tuition-free education, merely one that does not cost a prohibitive amount on the various packs.”

“While the Headmaster would have to confirm, I believe that Hogwarts would be able to provide a scholarship or two as well.” Flitwick gave his input. 

“Well it seems that you have thought this out quite thoroughly,” Ragnok stated with pride in his eyes. “It seems you are going through all of the traditional channels to get things accomplished. Why did you need to meet with me?” 

“There are a few more problems that need to be overcome, problems that your people would best be able to resolve. As Hogwarts currently stands, dangers abound in every hallway of the school for unprepared individuals with lycanthropy. I asked about it with Amou. He is of the opinion that the dangers are simply something that comes from having the bite, and nothing need be done. After a few moons, it is apparently simple enough to avoid touching those items made of silver. I disagree and have talked it over with the Headmaster. Because of my...unique upbringing and heritage, I have the means to get all the silver on the grounds in a single room that has the capability to enlarge if need be. A team of goblins would then come and either make the items safe by way of wards or transfiguration or take the items to be placed inside the Hogwarts vault. In addition to payment for this service by way of the donations of my fellow students, the headmaster has agreed to return any goblin-made items that are discovered in the silver room to the goblin clan that has rights to it. Hogwarts is also in need of a new place in which future students with lycanthropy can roam during the full moon. For the last three weeks, I have been in negotiation with several of the residents of the Forbidden Forest. They have agreed to permit a small section of the Forest to be used for this purpose so long as certain niceties are followed.”

Turning to his friends, Ranook and Grimhook, Harry continued “A few summers ago, the three of us came up with a comprehensive warding schematic for this purpose. For various reasons, it never left the theoretical stage. With a bit of tweaking, I believe it would be perfect for Hogwarts’ needs. Further, I believe that the changes in my generation’s thinking could cause its system to be quite profitable in a few years. I would like to work with you to optimize this plan so that those wards could be put in place at the same time as the desilvering project. Even if it does not pick up like I expect, this one project would be far more profitable than your betting habit.”

Neither goblin hesitated. “We’re in!” They shouted. An hour later, all the details had been ironed out, contracts had been written in exhausting detail and signed, and the boys had rushed off to put in a bit of time towards their project before Harry had to go.

Ragnok and Flitwick had retired to the formal sitting room, both contemplating what they had learned. Filius was still reeling with everything that he had learned. Yet again, Harry had sought to solve Hogwarts’ problems himself. He hated that Harry had felt the need to hide his activities, had chosen detention rather than explain himself….Ragnok felt pride and concern. A decision five years earlier was reaping benefits in spades, and the children involved were growing to be world changers. The youngest of the group, Harry Potter, was continually fighting battles, battles that the elders around him deemed unnecessary or a problem that children ought not concern themselves with. Every culture has the right to raise their youth as they see fit. Ragnok feared that this child of many worlds was not being given the help he needed to reconcile his recent experiences. 

Based on the happy sounds of children floating down from the second floor of Warrior’s Refuge, all was well for the moment. Ragnok would make sure that he would be part of the group to go to Hogwarts. If Harry had a need that wasn’t being met at Hogwarts, it would be provided. News of Harry’s arrival had spread, and as the hour grew later, it was decided that Harry should stay the night to catch up with his many goblin friends, an idea that his mum and dad were perfectly okay with when they were contacted. For once not having any papers to grade or lessons to plan, Flitwick happily accepted when the invitation was extended to include him. The time in Ragnok’s office had helped him to calm down somewhat concerning just who he was rubbing shoulders with, and Filius’ natural curiosity was bubbling to the surface. He wanted to know more about the circumstances that had helped form such a unique individual as Harry Potter.

“Your Majesty, I...that is” Flitwick was unsure as to how he should begin.

“I gather you've questions about your student?” Ragnok chuckled kindly.

“Um...well, yes”

“Once the boys have fallen asleep, I’ll get Griphook to come over with a bottle of his grandfather's finest. This tale is best told with a bit of alcohol in the system….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks! I <3 y'alls kudos and comments. :)  
> :O Feed me, Feed me :O says the hungry Comment Monster


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